


The King of the Underwold

by TeeEye82



Category: Labyrinth (1986)
Genre: F/M, Honestly I have good hopes for this just read th., Tables Have Tabled, Unnessecary Clothing Explanation, magic shenanigans
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-07-08
Updated: 2016-07-08
Packaged: 2018-07-22 10:24:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,576
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7432669
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TeeEye82/pseuds/TeeEye82
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Once a year, for the past twelve years, Sarah has dined with the Goblin King on the anniversary of her triumph over the Labyrinth. On their thirteenth celebration, however, he brings her out into his kingdom, dropping the usual act and revealing to her the world he lives in. As expected, things aren't as they seem, and time is running out. It might not be Sarah's, though.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The King of the Underwold

**Author's Note:**

> This is a partnered project where I write from Jareth's point of view (The King of the Underworld) and my friend, KittenRose13, writes from Sarah's (The Story of Persephone). This half is Jareth's, obviously, and you can find Sarah's on KittenRose13's FanFiction.net account. She won't be posting here on Archive of Our Own, so don't look for it here. Anyway, we hope you enjoy this little adventure and would greatly appreciate feedback, praise, criticism, etc. Have a good read.
> 
> We own nothing from the story of The Labyrinth. All characters and events belong to their rightful owners. This is entirely a fan-created mimicry of the original work.

Time for the Goblin King moved very different for him compared to from other perspectives. Years could go by in the span of hours. Minutes could last days. He could go to sleep now and wake up before he had seen his Labyrinth bested for the first time by a girl that had earned herself a place outside of that narrow descriptive term, and yet from there it would still be in this moment. The world he lived in was used to bending and forming under his hand, and there was hardly a moment he didn’t take full advantage of that. However, for the past thirteen years his use of time had remained uncharacteristically linear. For his kingdom and court, no one sensed that anything was different, as they hardly were privy to the exact moment their world resided in. It didn’t matter to them whether they were two months ahead or five years behind, their lives would go on regardless. Jareth was the only one aware that each day in passing was where it belonged in relation to the human world, and that was just as well for him.

That didn’t mean it wasn’t gruesomely slow.

Today, the ruler of the goblins lounged boredly in his bowl-like throne, uninterested gaze rolling over the screeching forms that cried out for justice by blood. Below, it seemed that one goblin had wronged another in some way. From what little he could gather over the cacophony of voices, it was probably something as petty as how many loaves of bread had been traded for a chicken. Or perhaps how many grains that bread had been made with in relation to how many feathers needed to be plucked. Nonsense. Trivial bickering. This was the life he had resigned himself to all those centuries ago, back when he first had been offered the position of king over these so willingly shifting lands.

One hundred years ago, he was fine with this. Fifty years ago, his opinion remained unswayed. Twenty years ago? Again, his place was firm. But thirteen years ago something changed. Thirteen years ago someone showed him how tired he was of the same old chaos. Thirteen years ago a challenger had accepted his terms and played his game. More than that, though; they’d won.

Abandoning all attempts at making heads or tails of the disagreement below, the King turned his attention to peer into the home of a girl with raven hair. A woman, actually, age sharpening her cheeks and wisening her brow. Oh how time did rest nicely on her skin, he mused with an approving glint in his gaze as he took a moment to admire how she’d grown, and perhaps even how the steamy water of her shower outlined and caressed the form she usually smartly hid beneath her simple clothes. This scene was silent for him, and murky through the curved glass of his crystal, but it was a far cry more interesting than the goings on in his court.

After a short moment of his lingering gaze, he brought his gloved hand up to slide over the air around the magic ball, lips playing at a clever smirk as one of the items in the woman’s shower glimmered into something prettier. A simple crystal flask stood modestly beside the plastics of the human world’s washing equipment, and his grin widened as her hand ventured down by habit to use his humble offering.

He wondered if she would find the humour in his gift.

The resounding screech of his name from the girl brought up a low chuckle, and he cast one last knowing smirk at the image of the furious, naked woman in the shower before it fogged and cleared away and he returned the crystal ball to his sleeve. The court still had not come to any kind of solid decision, but he decided at last that he couldn’t be bothered to remain as overseer. With a somewhat petulant flourish, the king rose from his throne and stepped purposefully out of the hall, leaving the squabbling wretches to sort their issues out on their own. It was almost time for him to retrieve a very special guest, he mused silently while flowing back to his private quarters. It was high time he got ready.

Standing before his reflection, the King of Goblins tilted his head this way and that, shifting strands of hair with delicate brushes of his white gloved hands and arranging his artfully ruffled clothing just so. In a moment, he admired the picturesque look of grandeur, the undeniable power and authority he had so masterfully woven into his presence. His mismatched eyes glittered with that trace of mischief he’d grown accustomed to sliding over his prey, and in the mimicked visage on the glass the corners of his crimson painted lips quirked in a challenge.

Perfect.

With a short exhale he relaxed his shoulders and brushed the creases on his cape away, waving a flourish over the mirror’s surface to reveal a pretty night scene. It looked out onto a balcony, the light of the evening sky gently washing the white painted wood of the structure in a pale illumination. Leaning against the railing, with face upturned towards the glittering stars and form twisted languidly to accommodate for the low posture, stood his Sarah. Jareth took a moment to admire the minimalist outfit she had donned. Flattering blue jeans that reached down to only allow the most coy of glimpses at her heeled boots, a bloused white shirt that still managed to cling to her shoulders, wrists and waist, hair done up in a braided circlet that held the ends just above her neck.

With a customary grin, the man stepped through the mirror, pearled boots falling almost silently against the poured stone of the balcony. His hands came up to rest against the railing, a safe distance from the closest elbow of the woman stargazing.

“The stars in the sky pale,” a short pause, for added effect, “in comparison to the ones in your eyes, dear girl.” He hummed this purposefully, keeping his gaze wistfully up into the cosmos. Sarah tensed visibly beside him, and her clipped, mildly irritated voice met his ears with such a singing familiarity that it was all he could do to keep from letting his eyes flutter closed in whimsy. Listening in on her through his crystals and mirrors was one thing, but standing beside her and really feeling her matured voice directed at him with intent was another experience entirely.

“Maybe knocking would make for a better and less startling entrance next time.” Her ever petulant attitude made him grin a little wider, and he turned to watch as she hopped back inside her room to retrieve those heartfelt and sentimental gifts she always insisted on bringing along for the traitors that helped her through the Labyrinth.

“So shall we be off?” He lifted his eyes from the way her hands wrapped around the satchel to her own suddenly cheery face, and cocked a single curious eyebrow while leaving the balcony and drawing nearer to her. He couldn’t help but think that smile that spread her lips wasn’t for him.

“You must be in a hurry to see someone,” he remarked in mock amusement, peering around her room. The angle of physically standing there was always refreshing, again in comparison to the many ways he spied on her between their dinners.

“Well, yes, actually. I was hoping to see my friends while I was in the Labyrinth with you… if that’s alright with you?” Her eyes were doed and pleading, and if he tried hard enough he could even imagine her lips quivering in that plush pout they used to find themselves in as she cried about how unfair things were. Fingers wringing tightly in nervousness, lashes dark and wet with unshed tears, front pressed into him as she begged for him to give in. He shook that image from his mind, recollecting his attention to the present. His painted lips found themselves resting comfortably in a sympathetic smile, and he brought an arm up to drape around her shoulders, not touching.

“But of course. For thee, anything.” Jareth breathed softly, borrowing one of the lines spoken to her by a certain fox terrier knight that had accompanied her through the Labyrinth. He wondered if she’d notice.

“Thank you,” came her excited reply. Apparently not. “So how do we get back to the Labyrinth?” This question was punctuated with a faint growling of her stomach, and a dusting of pink that warmed her nose and cheeks.

The man let out a hearty chuckle and rested his gloved hands on her shoulders, turning her around to face what would have been her bed. The scene instead was an ode to the beginning of their journey thirteen years ago, with hot sands and dried brush and the entire scope of his kingdom spread out into the horizon. He no longer had his gloves against her shirt, and watched her take in the sight he’d presented her with.

“The Labyrinth, it looks… different?” Her dark locks swished against the air as she tilted her head in curiosity, and Jareth leaned over to breathe in a sneaky taste of her scent, letting his voice fall closer to her ear in the process while his eyes lazily slid towards the realm.

“It’s changed more than you think.”


End file.
